


Driving Home for Christmas

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is stuck in a motel room when he should be on the road, driving home in time for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, pre-Castiel/Dean (initially)
> 
> **The twenty-second installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

Dean sighed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. He was sprawled sideways across the lumpy bed, tracing the shadows on the plaster in attempts to distract himself from how awful the cheap sheets felt against his hands, and how much he wanted to be wrapped in his own. 

At home. Where there was memory foam and Egyptian cotton and impeccable heating and power and a clean kitchen full of food that wasn’t about to jump up and crawl off the plate. 

He huffed, rolling onto his side. God, this was gonna be a long night. In the darkness, he felt around for his phone in his pockets, wincing at the bright light when he unlocked it. Wary of the two percent battery he had left, Dean quickly scrolled through his contacts to his brother’s name, and tapped out a rushed message.

 _Made it as far as Nebraskan border before I had to stop,_ he typed, _stranded in motel for the night. Phone dying and power out, will call when I can._

They had two reports they wanted to check out before they took a break for the holidays, one up in North Dakota, and one down in Oklahoma, so Dean and Sam had split with the intent of meeting back at the bunker in time for Christmas. The way life always worked out for Dean though meant that Sam’s hunt turned out to be a cakewalk of a malevolent spirit, whereas Dean was left running around frantically searching for poppy bullets to gank an obnoxious witch. Don’t even get him started on her damned pet hellhound. 

But he’d done it, eventually, though it put him way behind schedule. Sam had already made it back home, and Dean couldn’t wait to get back too, but just as he packed Baby up, and turned to head for home, the dangerous weather warnings came rolling in. 

Dean threw the now dead phone onto the cheap 70s nightstand and flopped onto his back again with a frustrated grunt.

He’d cleaned his weapons in the last vestiges of light before the snow clouds snuffed out the sun, and now found himself at a loss for things to do. He couldn’t go bar hopping like he usually would to kill time—he’d struggled to make it to the motel in the first place, and a quick glance out into the almost entirely unlit parking lot showed that Baby was almost buried already. No TV, no wifi, no computer or phone. 

It was so damn infuriating. In good weather he was only a few hours’ drive away from home, and his own beautiful, neither lumpy nor stabby nor questionably stained bed. Dean was barely able to restrain himself from getting up and pacing the room like a caged animal. He hated being cooped up with nothing to do, feeling trapped. 

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to rub away the ache there. God, it was starting to get freezing in here, his hands were like ice. Shivering, though still fully dressed, he pulled his hands away and stared back up at the cracked ceiling, vision swimming.

“Hey Cas. I know you’re probably busy, but, uh,” Dean found himself saying into the audible silence of the room, flexing his aching fingers, “I’m stranded in a shit motel in Culbertson, Nebraska. Snow, ya know. Population barely breaks 500, so I’m not expecting the roads to be cleared anytime soon,” he snorted quietly. “This ain’t an SOS call, I just… Sorry, this is dumb. Blizzard’s fucked the power lines so there’s no TV and I can’t charge my phone, and you know how well I sleep,” he laughed lowly to himself. 

There was nothing but the howling of the wind outside. Dean shook his head, not knowing what he’d expected in the first place. 

With a heavy exhale, he forced himself to get up before he froze. He felt his way towards the light switch, giving it a last hopeful flick, but nope, still nothing. A maintenance guy had knocked on his door, despite the ‘do not disturb’, a few hours earlier to let him know they were trying to get a generator going, but he doubted it was gonna happen anytime soon. After all, he was probably the only person in the whole damn motel.

After some deliberation, Dean decided to jump in the shower to pass the time. He grabbed a few toiletries and some warm pajamas from his bag and, flicking open his zippo, set about searching for something to make a small fire with. 

He grabbed the large ash tray from the table and pulled the Bible from the nightstand, tearing out some pages to make kindling. 

“Sorry,” he said in a vague upwards direction, though he really wasn’t. 

The dusty pages would ignite easily, but he needed something a little more substantial, otherwise he was gonna be showering in the dark after thirty seconds. Sticking out his tongue in concentration, he rifled blindly around in his duffle bag, trying to find…

“Aha,” he grinned, feeling a set of old wooden prayer beads he knew he’d seen somewhere in there earlier on. He almost laughed to himself as he split the string that held them together and filled the base of the ash tray with the beads--this was quickly becoming one hell of a sacrilegious little bonfire. 

Expertly locating the two pathetic smoke detectors on the roof and covering them with socks, the way his father had taught him to years ago, he flicked open his lighter once more. The dry Bible pages went up easy, eventually lighting the beads and creating a controllable little fire that, yeah, he was kinda proud of. 

It wouldn’t last long though, so he carried it to balance on the edge of the sink, turned on the shower quickly, praising all that was holy for the pipes not being frozen, and dived under while he still had some light. 

Big mistake. 

Though the pipes weren’t frozen, the water sure as hell was. Shivering violently, he hastily washed his body and his hair, rinsing the bubbles from him, and jumped straight back out. On the verge of hyperventilation from how damn cold he was, he nearly stuck his hands in the smouldering ashes of his ungodly bonfire, but just managed to hold himself back. He vigorously rubbed himself dry with an itchy motel towel and pulled on his thick pajamas and a big hoodie, desperate to regain some body heat. As an afterthought, he dumped the fire under the faucet and ran icy water over it, smothering the last of the embers.

“Fucking shitty motel with its shitty plumbing,” he grumbled to himself as he headed back out into the room. He was considering sleeping in his coat at this point, because no way was he waking up with frostbite, not when— 

“Hello, Dean,” a familiar voice cut through the darkness, and Dean nearly had a damn coronary.

“Jesus, Cas!” he gasped, clasping his racing chest. “Fuck, am I glad to see you,” he said as he managed to calm himself down, carefully crossing the dark room. “What are you doing here, man?” 

Dean beamed, throwing his arms around the angel who stood between the window and the bed. God, he’d missed Cas so much. He reluctantly unwound his arms, giving Castiel a firm pat on the back before breaking away.

The angel tilted his head in confusion. “You called.”

“Oh shit, sorry, I’m not in any kinda trouble,” Dean said, guilt hitting him. Of course that was why Cas was there, he thought Dean wanted help. “I don’t need rescuing, I was just complaining.”

“You don’t need to be in danger to call me, Dean,” the angel said, watching as Dean perched on the edge of the bed. “I could sense your longing for me from Peru.”

“Peru?” Dean asked dumbly, desperately trying to skim over the ‘longing’ part. Yeah, he had wanted Cas there, but to hear that the angel could sense it from a continent away was mortifying, at the least.

Castiel only smiled. “I will happily fly you home,” he said, but Dean shook his head.

“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t,” he sighed. “Couldn’t leave my Baby out there. She’s gotta be under a foot of snow by now.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Of course. Then we will stay until the roads are safe to drive on.”

Dean’s heart was warmed by the words, but his lips curved into a frown. “Naw, you don’t have to,” he protested weakly. “Sure you got places to go, people to see.”

“Nothing I would prioritize over you,” the angel said, as if it was the simplest of facts, and there Dean’s heart went again, going haywire in his chest.

“You sap,” he rasped out teasingly, though he wasn’t sure if he was addressing Castiel or himself.

Castiel said nothing, instead assessing Dean with his eyes, and giving a frown of his own. “I know it’s not easy for you, but you should try to sleep. It’s late,” he said.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean relented with a sigh, fumbling around to the head of the bed and climbing under the sheets. “Nothing else to do, anyways. What are you gonna do?” 

“I’m not sure,” the angel responded from across the room. “I know the thought of me watching over you makes you uncomfortable. I can face the other way—”

Dean chuckled, throwing back the other side of the comforter with a shake of his head. “It’s a queen, Cas. Just get in.”

“Oh,” Castiel said in the darkness, but Dean could just about make out the shape of his body edging closer. “Alright.”

“Take off the shoes, genius,” Dean laughed quietly, and Castiel obeyed, stripping his coat and suit jacket too. “It’s pretty freezing, but a dress shirt and slacks can’t be comfortable. I have more sweats in my bag if you wanna change.”

The angel nodded his thanks and raided Dean’s duffle for the clothes, quickly changing and sliding in beside Dean in the bed. 

They lay side by side in silence for a while, before Castiel eventually broke it. “I know I’m not an expert, but this doesn’t seem like a particularly comfortable bed.”

Dean snorted, rolling onto his side. Castiel was far closer than Dean expected, their noses only inches away, but Dean felt himself craving the proximity. If anything, his body wanted him to move in closer, to soak up the warmth he could feel radiating from the angel’s body.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cas,” he whispered, and the angel blinked at him with wide, trusting eyes.

“And I’m glad to be here,” the angel replied, covering Dean’s hand where it rested on the mattress between their faces with his own. The move was painfully intimate, and Dean’s eyes were glued to where they touched as he deeply inhaled Castiel’s ethereal scent. 

“I miss you, y’know,” he said, so quietly that the words seemed to be swallowed up in the silence, but Castiel heard them. He gave a gentle squeeze to Dean’s hand, thumb running soothing circles over the slowly warming skin. 

“I know,” he breathed, just as quietly. Hesitantly, as if he were afraid that any sudden movements would spook Dean, the angel moved to entwine their fingers together.

God, Dean needed Castiel like he needed oxygen in his lungs. 

After swallowing back the lump in his throat, Dean let out a shaky breath. “I’m gonna do something crazy, Cas,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. 

They were lying close enough together in the shitty bed that Dean could see Castiel’s lips curled up into a slow, small smile. “That’s nothing new for you.”

Dean wanted to laugh, but he was too terrified. “Listen, you need to promise me something.”

“Anything,” the angel replied dutifully, other hand coming up to cup at Dean’s stubbled jaw. 

“If this isn’t what you want—if I make you uncomfortable, or, fuck, anything, then please forget it ever happened. I can’t live with you hating me, Cas,” he said, voice weak. 

“Angels were created to love, Dean,” Castiel hushed him, “and for all of the billions of humans on this planet, you are the sole beneficiary of all I have to give. No matter what you do, it is impossible for me to hate the one I adore so ardently.” 

Dean took a deep breath, fighting to ignore the aching in his chest, and leaned forward to close the final gap between them. Never looking away from those beautiful blue eyes for a second, Dean tilted his head a fraction, his cold nose bumping Castiel’s cheek, and then Cas’ hot breath was on his skin, and his mouth was on Dean’s. 

He moved slowly, hesitantly, the deliberate brush of lips on chapped, wet lips making his heart race in his ribcage, pounding so loudly he was sure all of Nebraska could hear it. With a trembling breath, Dean allowed his eyes to slip closed, and let the hands on his jaw guide him. 

A tongue stroked at the seam of his mouth, tentative but determined, and Dean relented easily, parting his lips. Castiel’s tongue caressed his own, running along the back of his teeth and painting gentle, butterfly-light patterns on the roof of his mouth, and fuck, it was so sweet and innocent, but it was the best damned kiss he’d ever had. 

When he angel moved to pull away, Dean let out a low, muted moan, but Castiel only chuckled in response. 

“You’ve done far crazier,” Cas whispered against his lips, arms winding around his body. 

“Ya think?” Dean asked with heavy breath, eyes slipping shut.

The angel hummed. “Absolutely.” 

They lay together, entwined under the cheap sheets until Dean’s breathing eventually became deep and even, and he floated, warmed to his core. He fell asleep listening to the steady in-and-out of Castiel’s own breaths, head nestled on the angel’s chest.

When Dean awoke some hours later to the bright white of snow creeping in through the polyester curtains, the bed around him was cold, and notably empty. Cas was gone. Disappointment sank like a stone to the pit of his stomach, he’d thought— With a frown he couldn’t shift, Dean heaved himself out of the bed and began to throw his clothes on, tidying as he went.

Dean knew that Cas was busy, he’d been in Peru, after all. He didn’t have the time to stay all night with Dean, especially when he didn’t even need to sleep. It was irrational of him to have hoped the angel would stay. Just as he was finishing zipping up his bag though, heart heavy, there was the flap of wings behind him, and he turned with a jump.

“Apologies,” Castiel said, coming to press an easy kiss to Dean’s lips, and fuck, he was never gonna get used to that, was he? “I had hoped to return before you awoke. We may go home now.”

“What d’ya mean?” Dean asked, brows furrowed. “Surely the snow’s even worse out there.”

The angel stood with a warm hand on Dean’s waist, still clad in Dean’s ratty sweats, and damn if that wasn’t the best sight to wake up to in the whole universe. “I left early to remove the snow from the car and carry it back to Kansas. Baby is safely parked inside the bunker’s garage.”

“You did?” Dean blinked, brows raised in surprise. 

“Yes,” the angel smiled proudly, taking Dean’s hand. “Now, collect your things. It’s your turn.” 

Dean grinned like an excited child, grabbing his bag and throwing the room key on the bed. Looked like they were gonna get home for Christmas after all, even if it wasn’t quite the way he had been expecting.


End file.
